Chapter Thirty-Six
Sunset
When I left Vancouver in June, I felt good about my time there. I had met wonderful people and built lifetime friendships. I had learned some French, and I had learned how to be a tactful American. Without a doubt, the hardest part was saying goodbye to my Bible Buddies. They were like my four little sisters. I promised them that I would come back to visit, and they promised they would visit me in California so we could go to Disneyland together.
Saying goodbye to Vancouver meant that I was moving closer to Charlie. The trouble was that I had no idea what to do next.
I moved in with my parents for a few months after making my mom promise not to use harsh words to hurt me. She succeeded for a few days, but I knew I needed to get out of there when I found my drawing notebook open on my bed, and my last sketch of a Vancouver house was covered in her large handwriting: “These drawings are wonderful, Miriam. You are a great artist.”
“Mom, you wrote me a note in my sketch book?”
“Yes, I was looking through it, and I wanted to tell you how beautiful your drawings are.”
“Mom. You wrote on my latest sketch. I can’t erase that! And I can’t go back and do it again!” I handed her the sketchbook so she could see what she had done.
“What?” She lifted up her glasses so she could see up close. “Why did you sketch it so light, I couldn’t even see it!” she yelled.
And somehow it was my fault that she had ruined my picture.
Charlie still had one semester left at the university, so I got a job on campus in the admissions office. Between classes, Charlie would show up outside the window of my office with chai tea or Jamba Juice. He would bring a drink for my supervisor as well. Sometimes he’d drop off a box of bagels or a plate of cookies. Everyone in my office loved him. He was that kind of guy.
I lived with three girlfriends—Jamie, Emma, and Kiki—in an apartment in Glendora, and I was making $26,000 a year, which seemed like a fortune after volunteering as a missionary with $80 per month as an allowance. I started saving money for the big day—whenever it might be.
When I came home from work one day with a big bouquet of flowers from Charlie, Emma asked, “When are you two love birds going to get married? You are perfect for each other!”
“He still needs to graduate and get a job. But I could see us getting married in a year.”
“Well,” she said, “Jamie, Kiki, and I have a bet going. I bet he will propose in less than six months.”
I yelped with joy. “I hope so!”
Because we had been apart for so long, the intensity of Charlie’s touch made me feel like I was going to explode. “I can’t do this anymore,” I said one night when we started kissing in my bedroom. “I love you. But I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”
“What do you mean?” He sounded scared.
“I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore. When you are ready, I want to be your fiancée. But until then, I think we should stop seeing each other.”
He was silent.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” I asked.
“No. If you love me, why would you want to be apart?”
“Look at us. We are not honoring God.”
He got off the bed and kneeled with his forehead down to the ground.
When he looked up, he had tears in his eyes.
“I only want to do what’s right. If this is what God wants, I trust him. I trust you, Miriam.”
We stopped seeing each other. But we continued to read through the Psalms each day. It was a routine that we had started when I moved to Canada. It was one small way to feel together, even when we were apart. I wrote him a letter from my desk at work one day after reading Psalm 37:
Dear Charlie, My Love,
Today’s Psalm is so good.
“I have been young and now am old,
Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
Or their children begging bread.
They are ever giving liberally and lending
And their children become a blessing.
Depart from evil and do good; so you shall abide forever.”
I want you to know that I am actively trying to depart from evil and do good. Why would I want any sort of evil in our relationship? What we have is so beautiful, and I don’t want it to be tainted by impatience for desire. I must trust in God. I must trust his timing, even if I don’t understand it.
Something that you said a few months ago rang in my ears today. “I don’t know how I am going to do it; all I know is that I need God to help me today.” You are an awesome, amazing man. I can’t support you if I am distracting you from the Lord! That is the last thing I want to do. How frustrating!
I surrender. I want God to do this his way. I may fail, but I choose to desperately seek him. Please seek him with me and cherish me; I desire to cherish you.
I love you, Charlie.
Love,
Miriam
A week later we ran into each other in the library. We looked at one another, unsure of what to say at first.
“Will you come to my baptism on Sunday?” he asked.
“Yes! Of course.”
“Great.” He looked down at the ground and then straight into my eyes.
“Can I hug you?”
“Of course.”
Then, with ease, he took me in his arms.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world. And I miss you.”
While he was at work the next day, I went to his apartment and left a framed picture of the two of us. It was from our road trip to San Simeon. We were both standing on the pier in Santa Barbara in our college sweatshirts, the wind blowing our hair. Attached to the frame was one of my favorite quotes, which I had written in brown calligraphy: “Which drop on the window pane moves to join the other?” – C. S. Lewis.
When I got back to my apartment that evening, I found a note tacked to my front door, written on handmade paper that Charlie had made in his art class.
Our love is always showing me
something new about God.
I am excited to see you
tomorrow in his house.
It was a treat to see your
beautiful face yesterday.
I love you Miriam.
Charlie
After his baptism, we decided to see each other again, but only on Sundays.
One cool Sunday evening in December he brought me to the beach in Santa Barbara. We sat down on a blanket and watched the sunset together. Just as the water reflected its last sparkle of sunlight, Charlie got on his knees and took a small box out of his pocket.
“Miriam Bernhardt—will you be my wife?” he asked, tears in his eyes. He opened the box.
“Are you serious? Is that real?” I couldn’t believe what was happening.
“Answer my question, please.”
“Yes!” I wrapped my arms around him. Then, his hands shaking, he put the ring on my finger. It was beautiful.
“I chose this ring for you,” he said. “Because it’s elegant, beautiful, and simple—just like you.”
“Thank you. I love it. I love you.”
We kissed again. He took out his camera and took a few pictures to remember the moment. Then, still with tears in his eyes, he reached into his bag and brought out three journals.
“These are for you. These journals contain all my letters to you in our days apart.”
I opened the first journal. It was an entry from his birthday two years earlier, the night I made him the chocolate cake with M&Ms:
I don’t even know what to write.
Imagine loving her.
My heart already speaks yet
I can’t even admit it.
If it were her—if I could love her—then I most definitely would.
“I’ve loved you ever since I saw you smile when you walked into the library.”
“I know. I’ve always loved you too.”
*
* *
We had a huge wedding in Charlie’s dad’s backyard. We invited everyone who cared about us and invested in our lives. And our wedding night was—in Elisabeth Elliot’s words—“unspeakably worth the wait.”
God’s timing is everything.
He lets us experience things that crush us.
But he also reshapes us.
And gives us stories to tell.
* * *
Riddle Answer from Chapter 27: Ask either angel this question: “What door would he (the other angel) say is the door to hell?” Both angels will point to the door to heaven.
Stay tuned for the next book by Chelsea Rotunno
Heavenly Here With You
www.chelsearotunno.com
[email protected]
Goodnight to My Thoughts of You Page 37
